Category Archives: Fiction

Cutthroats and Curses…ahoy there!

Ahoy there shipmates! If you’re looking for a swashbuckling, piratical tale…you need look no further…for ‘Cutthroats and Curses – An Anthology of Pirates’ is now out!

Cutthroats and Curses - An Anthology of Pirates

Cover art by Kit Cooper. Her art is also available to buy!

Featuring eleven great writers: Michael Wombat, Lisa Shambrook (yes, that’s me!), Boyd Miles, Marissa Ames, Bryan Taylor, Beth Avery, Matt Jameson, Eric Martell, Michael Walker, Stephen Coltrane, and Alex Brightsmith, there will be something for everyone!

My tale is: Paroxysm

A Steampunk tale of Captain Jericha Blacklocke’s bid to survive both catch twenty-two and a vengeful dragon to save her crew aboard The Paroxysm. A story thick with emotion and tension, corsets and longing, goggles and jewels, and a desire to survive and atone…

Pick up this intriguing eBook at Amazon UK, Amazon US, Amazon Canada or any other Amazon near you!

Go on, me hearty, put it on your Kindle, or phone, or Ipad – something to read in the sun, or the rain this Summer, depending on where you live!

And, before you landlubbers leave, check out The Anthology Club‘s excellent debut release ‘Soul of the Universe’ with reviews such as:

‘This collection was absolutely breathtaking, and has introduced me to some new genres I wasn’t overly familiar with, and showed the extraordinary range of writing styles that all bring their own meaning to a story.’ – Sorcha

and: ‘Soul of the Universe is a collection of stunning short stories that can leave you smiling, crying or just in a state of wonder.’ – BekahCat

Five Sentence Fiction: Fenced

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Please do not use without permission © Lisa Shambrook

She stared at the metal chain link, just as she did every day, sitting cross-legged, chin cupped in hands, elbows on knees.

There was nothing beyond, truly nothing, but sky…and clouds. The sandy, dirt scrub, ten feet from the high, barbed wire fence, dropped away, away into nothing, a void, and everyone knew there was nothing below, nothing at all. Though the world, the whole rest of the world stretched for hundreds, nay thousands, of miles behind her, she preferred to stare at the precipice beyond the fence; it both calmed and excited her at the same time.

So when hands, scrabbling, dirty and grazed hands, appeared clawing over the top of the cliff, at the very edge of the world – her mouth dropped and she grabbed the chain link, and she knew life was about to change!

Just five sentences…go read the other great entries for the prompt: Fenced over at Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction.

Blues Buster: Broken Up

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Having finished an intense period of editing, flash fiction calls! The prompt for this week’s Blues Buster over at The Tsuruoka Files is The Break-Up Song by The Greg Kihn Band.

Please do not use without permission © Lisa Shambrook

Broken Up

My head thumped in time to the music, and my hand shook as I raised the tumbler to my lips. I downed the shot and slammed the glass onto the bar.

“Another,” I growled.

The barman opened his mouth to speak but I shook my head, and he shrugged as he poured the drink. I lifted the glass and the harsh liquid burned its way down my throat.

“And again!” I demanded.

“Not my business,” he said as he placed another shot before me.

“Damn right!” I scowled, oscillating the molten fire within the glass and staring into its hypnotic depth.

This one slipped mellifluously down my throat, pooling in the centre of my chest, raising a gilded shield around my swollen heart. The music slowed, and my anger softened, and the swaying bodies filling the dance floor merged together into a rainbow of swirling colours.

This time the barman anticipated my request, and the glass appeared on the shiny counter leaving a trail of silver water shimmering in its wake. I caught it into my hand and spilled the golden glaze as my hand trembled. I fastened both hands about it, to stop it dancing, and laughed as its twin hovered before my eyes.

“You okay?” asked a voice at my side, and I spun on my stool, my head following moments later.

A shock of red hair tumbled down upon her shoulders and concern shone from her eyes. I nodded. “Is he all right?” She turned to the barman, who shrugged and moved to another customer.

“I’m fine,” I slurred. “Just having a good night, a good riddance night…all to myself. So if you don’t mind moving on…”

“Leave him.” Her friend tugged her away and they disappeared into the throng.

“We broke up!” My words echoed incoherently inside my head and faded into the music. “We finished!” I had no idea who I was talking to; the red-head or the barman or anyone who would listen. “We’re done, really done, finished forever this time!” My voice rose, whining through the music and the dizzy dancing. “Another drink, my man!”

Lights flashed, beats shook, sirens wailed, and I clasped the new, cold glass in my unsteady fingers. The drink sloshed over the sides, and I hurriedly sucked at it before I let go as it threatened to slide out of my grip.

“And another!”

“No more…” The voice was soft and mellow and I turned to the red-head.

“I told you honey, I’m done with women…” I blinked at the woman as her ponytail shook along with her head.

“Yes, you are,” she said. “For rather a long time, I’d imagine.”

The glass slipped from my hand, rolling, empty, across the bar, neon lights sparkling across its glistening surface. Blue lights revolved from the door as my arms were pulled behind my body and the click of metal reverberated through my spinning mind.

“Anything you say…” I tuned out as she recited my rights, and the night’s shots threatened to reappear.

More hazy shots rang out in my head, ones resurfacing in my memory, from a couple of hours ago. My legs yielded, and as I fell to the floor I recalled her body, her eyes, her blood, as she crumpled before me. As the policewoman at my side pulled my gun from my belt, I knew that tears and booze and no amount of drink in the world would ever conceal my sins.

(576 Words)

Five Sentence Fiction: Fairywings and Marriage

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Fairywings © Lisa Shambrook

Stars twinkled in the indigo sky and the tiny chain of fairies made their way down through the purple aubrietia, just inches from Tally’s dirty knees. A small crowd had already gathered beneath the hawthorn, but Tally’s beady eyes remained fixed upon the tiny fairy that sashayed at the head of the procession.

Diminutive drops of diamond dew glistened upon the pink London pride that weaved through the imp’s hair, and wood anemone petals draped her body, tied with a delicate belt of gossamer silk. She carried pale speedwell and tiny alpine blooms, and trailed dandelion wishes and baby’s breath as she fluttered her gauzy wings, and elegantly walked down the nodding forget-me-not aisle to her princely suitor.

Six-year-old Tally blinked incredulously, shrugging off the chill as she wriggled beneath the rhubarb, ignoring the shrill call from her mother; she wasn’t going to miss this for anything, and certainly not for bedtime!

Another Five Sentence Fiction…this time dedicated to Lillie McFerrin and her forthcoming nuptials…this is for you Lillie… x

My Creative Process – The Grand Blog Tour

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Thanks go to Nettie Thomson for nominating me for this Blog Tour…I got asked when it was named My Writing Process, but I was too busy to take part, so this second chance is much appreciated! Go take a look at Nettie’s answers here, then see what I’m doing…

Writing © Lisa Shambrook

What are you working on?

Right now I’m editing ‘Beneath the Old Oak’ and I’m very appreciative of beta readers! Sometimes you can be too close to your story and your writing and only someone else can catch the little things – or maybe the big things…

‘Beneath the Old Oak’ is the sequel to my debut novel ‘Beneath the Rainbow’ and continues seven years later following Meg, Freya’s best friend. Meg is now fourteen and her life is in turmoil. This story is close to my heart. They say write what you know – many of both Meg’s and her mother’s problems are things I’ve fought and done myself. Depression and anxiety affect entire families, not just the sufferers, and it’s a subject I’ve enjoyed tackling. Those who know my writing will appreciate a tough subject, but dealt with in an uplifting way.

The tentative blurb for ‘Beneath the Old Oak’ is:

‘Meg’s mother is anxious, depressed and neglectful. Meg thinks her mum is broken and wonders if she’ll be next, or is she already broken too? Meg wants to escape, but her mum beats her to it. Solace is found in a huge, old oak tree and Meg begins to learn to grow…’

Prior to resuming my editing, I’ve been writing flash fiction and enjoying submitting to contests and anthologies: Audiomachine’s Phenomena: Epic Heroes Event, The Anthology Club’s Pirate Anthology, Dirty Goggles 2014 and J.A.Mes Press Rebirth Anthology to name a few, along with traditional flash challenges like Blues Buster and Five Sentence Fiction.

World Book Day © Lisa Shambrook

How does your work differ from others of its genre?

I write eclectic flash fiction and enjoy experimenting with genres!

‘Beneath the Rainbow’ is placed in contemporary fiction, but it’s been enjoyed by everyone from 9 to 99 years old. ‘Beneath the Old Oak’ will hit the market as YA contemporary fiction.

How does my work differ? My writing definitely has its own voice, vibrant, lyrical and emotional. I work with the senses, description and colour, and my imagery stands out. If you really want to ‘feel’ what you read, try mine…

Why do you write/create what you do?

I write because it’s an urge I cannot deny. I’d go mad if I couldn’t lay down my thoughts on paper! I’m a creative soul, I need an outlet and it takes whatever forms my inspiration demand, from art to short stories, scrapbooking to photography, and craft to novels…

Notebooks everywhere © Lisa Shambrook

How does your writing/creative process work?

My heart is in control of my process, and I often have to rein it in, or nothing would get done!

I keep my inspirations jotted down, but generally only work on one big project at a time. Right now I will finish and release ‘Beneath the Old Oak’, and then work on the final book ‘Beneath the Distant Star’ which waits in its first draft form.

After that…who knows? I have a lovely children’s dragon adventure trilogy, and an epic dragon fantasy in the works…

I’m a planner. NaNoWriMo taught me discipline and that I need to plan! I pretty much work out a novel with a chapter-by-chapter plan, which will then spawn scenes and then writing. I also keep scrupulous notebooks of information eg: chronology, dates and times of sunsets/rises, flowers in season, character info, eye colour…it’s so easy to switch eye colour half way through a book, or a car model…been there!

My heart will determine my next work…

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Fairywings Anemone © Lisa Shambrook

What I love about this Blog Tour is all creatives are catered for…and you need to look out for the following on the 26^th when they take the baton for this tour:

Amanda Makepeace: www.amandamakepeace.com Her art is not to be missed!

Ruth Long: www.ruth-long.com Her words just blow me away!

Bekah Shambrook: www.bekahcat.wordpress.com If you want scary zombie make up, she’s your girl!

Website © Lisa Shambrook

You can also check out my website: www.lisashambrook.com

And find ‘Beneath the Rainbow’ on Amazon UK and Amazon US.

Dirty Goggles: Too Much Torque

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This is for the Dirty Goggles Bloghop 2014 put together by Jenn, Ruth and Steven…This is my Dieselpunk story…war, romance and lipstick!

Title: Too Much Torque
Word Count: 793 Words
Name: Lisa Shambrook @LastKrystallos
Category: Dieselpunk

Dirty_Goggles_Torque_Wrench_Last_Krystallos

Tools and Wrench © Lisa Shambrook

Too Much Torque

Heavy boots clumped and Ruby’s spanner bounced, clattering onto the dirty floor as she glanced up at the intrusion. She skidded backwards, ducking behind a Spitfire’s propeller shaft as grey-uniformed soldiers swarmed inside the hangar. They’d arrived sooner than expected.

“What have we here?” murmured a voice thick with accent. She jumped as hands rested on her stiff shoulders and began to knead, as if her back was soft, yielding dough – it was not.

She yanked off her goggles just as her oil-smeared fist met with the soldier’s jaw, “Take that as a warning shot!” she cautioned still brandishing her torque wrench like a gladiator’s weapon.

The soldier landed in a puddle of oil releasing a string of vulgar German whilst nursing his chin and wounded pride. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed her hair and yanked her arm up behind her back, roughly frogmarching her across the hangar into the small airfield office. He threw her into the wooden chair by the table then hurried to the door to watch the parade of captured mechanics.

On her feet she spanned the room in only two steps. The soldier whirled around seizing the wrench as she threatened to bury it in his skull. He caught her hands, snatched cables from the shelf and thrust her back onto the seat. His knee pushed up hard against her stomach as he bound her to the chair, and her feral growl was lost amid the hiss of steam and piston thud.

Ruby snarled, and he spat then struck her across the cheek with the back of his hand. “That’s for this!” He pointed at his bloody split lip.

Minutes later the general and soldiers ignored her as they ransacked the office. Papers fluttered everywhere and tools clattered off shelves.

“You won’t find anything here!” Her words earned another cuff across her face.

Angry, exasperated words flew about the room and Ruby grinned. The men left and she strained her eyes past her guard to watch them through the murky window, as the general forced the mechanics across the hangar, towards the Zeppelins and Spitfires out on the airstrip.

“Leaving you behind then?” She sneered as the soldier threw her a dirty look. As he turned back Ruby’s discarded torque wrench crushed his windpipe. An oil-smudged man pushed the limp soldier aside and grinned at Ruby.

“Don’t just stand there, Steve, untie me!”

“I’m surprised you didn’t clock him with the torque wrench the first time!” He smirked, waving wire cutters. “I would have if I was a lady,” he added.

“If I were a lady, he’d still be waiting for it – thankfully, I’m not a lady!” Ruby glowered beneath a layer of engine grease.

“Offering thanks?” he asked, as the cables fell to the floor. “I’ve never seen you as the damsel in distress type…”

“And you won’t again.” Ruby jerked a tool box open and rummaged, retrieving a small black cylinder. “This is what they were looking for,” she said slipping the film canister into her pocket.

Steve grinned again. “I knew there was more to you!”

She peered out of the grimy window and reapplied Scarlet Dawn to her lips. The soldier at her foot moaned and she thrust her steel capped boot into his head. “We have to get out of here, you coming?” She slid past the door and eased behind the water pumps pulling grenades out of an empty barrel. “Take these and throw them when I say.” His fingers brushed hers as he took them, she caught his eye and for a moment energy crackled and Ruby’s defences caved.

She pulled her leather jacket tight across her breast watching his face as she shook out her dark hair. His Adam’s apple bobbed unconsciously in his dry throat as he zipped up his own jacket. She threw him a pair of goggles and slid hers over her head.

The setting sun threw orange blazes across the hangar and he squinted, blinded by the sudden light shining through broken windows. She swung her shapely leg over the customised Indian Bobber she’d spent the last few months working on, and beckoned him, curling her finger in black leather clad hands.

The bike came to life between her thighs, its voice snarling through the empty hangar. Out on the airfield soldiers turned, shouts rang out and gunfire echoed.

Steve leaped onto the back of the rumbling bike tightly gripping her rear with his legs. She squeezed the throttle. Tyres squealed and the low-slung bike screeched through the hangar and out onto the runway. “Now!” she screamed.

Steve pulled out the pins and threw the grenades and as the explosion resonated they were gone, flames licking at their heels, speeding out into the gilded twilight.

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Photo Source: wikipedia.org Detail of Indian Larry’s Wild Child bike by Mike Arther. Cropped and customised by Lisa Shambrook with Instagram and Streamzoo

Five Sentence Fiction: Innocence

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The air was still, the aluminium table, cold, and the professor watched transfixed as the butterfly fluttered before his nose. Its fragile wings whispered against his unshaven cheek as he gently unscrewed the Petri dish lid and squeezed a silver drop from his pipette, watching it spread like tiny veins across the honeyed glaze.

Enticed by the sweet aroma the butterfly floated to the dish to imbibe and as it did, crystals swept across the creature’s entire body in frosted feathers of rime.

The professor stared in wonder at the intricate lattice of silver coating the butterfly’s wings in a work of exquisite art, his own hand imitating Jack Frost, and he leaned in close. Warmth from his breath gilded the frozen creature and filigree lace glistened, and regret shaded his features as one delicate touch shattered the butterfly into a million sparkles, like a burst bubble.

What’s your take on innocence?
Write your own Five Sentence Fiction and take a look at the other contributions!

Dirty Goggles: His Little Bumblebee

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This is for the Dirty Goggles Bloghop 2014 put together by Jenn, Ruth and Steven…I’m jumping straight in with my steampunk story and my little steampunk bumblebee!

Title: His Little Bumblebee
Word Count: 797 Words
Name: Lisa Shambrook @LastKrystallos
Category: Steampunk

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His Little Bumblebee

Professor Mordecai called Ottavia his little bumblebee because her heart hummed. I think he loved her more because her flaw made her real. I love her because her heart sings.

My heart runs as smooth as clockwork, because that’s just what it is, ticking quietly, flawlessly. Every brass nut and bolt, every piston and gear move in perfect unison. Her flaws led to my perfection.

***

Ottavia stared down at our creator’s limp body, her fingers clasping his hand, and my heart fluttered like the professor’s glass-winged dragonflies darting about the gloomy study. Her shoulders slumped and I recalled his last words as I hurried to her side.

“His heart gave out!” I hissed, “I have to get you away before the Regent claims you!”

She ignored me, burying her face in his dusty and worn brocade robes. I had no intention of ever letting the Regent anywhere near enough to listen to the hum of her heart, or even to touch the wiry golden curls that fell around her face. “We have to leave!”

Her hand leaped to her breast and her eyes glistened in the gas-light. “I can’t, not without my key!”

She lifted the ribbon that hung around her neck and its frayed empty ends whispered in the breeze.

A terrible sound echoed down the vast university corridors as the gas-lamps flickered. My heart pounded as I listened to the clickety-clack of a thousand wings. “There’s no time!” I muttered, grabbing her arm.

“I need my key!” she protested, digging into the professor’s pockets.

A horde of mechanical mosquitoes struck the ancient oak door like metal woodpeckers. I peered through the keyhole as wood splintered. “I need to get you to Professor Greenfire, before they destroy the door!” I desperately combed the room as Ottavia scurried about searching for her key. I yanked open the lid of an intricately decorated box revealing a pulsating mass of gold and steel bumblebees. Wings whirred into action as I released them. The tiny bees swarmed through the keyhole and sped into the fray of long legs and tin wings. Sparks flew and metal clattered.

“I’m not even going to make it out of here…” She dropped to the floor with a clatter.

I watched the curve of her breast rise and fall as she stared up at me. I could hear it, the heavy thump, the easing of pistons, the wisps of steam curling from her ribcage beneath her bodice, her mechanism slowing, running down. “I need my key!”

Acrid smoke spiralled through the keyhole as the clangs and clashes of metal echoed. “And there’s no way out up here anyway!” she cried, staring up at me through sparkling topaz eyes.

I whipped her cloak away from her shoulders. “There’s always a way,” I murmured, brushing my fingers over the delicate wire-framed wings protruding from her shoulder joints. I flung open the window. “I sent dragonflies ahead and Greenfire will meet you down by the forest.”

Her brass curls bounced as she shook her head. Her breaths shuddered and jerked as her cogs and gears slowed down.

I tore my key from the string around my neck and thrust it at her.

“It won’t fit!” she smiled. “And even if it did, you can’t live without it.” Her limbs shuddered and her eyes dulled, and desperation echoed inside my clockwork heart.

Our keys didn’t match, but sometimes, as Professor Mordecai once told me, magic happens when love exists. As her breaths faltered and her frame jerked, I untied her corset ribbons and reached up beneath her stays. Her ribs juddered and her heart stopped singing.

My shaking fingers located the keyhole beneath her breast-work but my key wouldn’t fit. I jiggled it delicately, and as my heart began to fail, it slotted right in! I wound it, listening to the barrel click, and watched a pale light fill her eyes once more.

I tied my key to her ribbon.

Her fingers trembled and jolted as they curled around mine and her cut glass eyes shimmered with tears that could not fall.

“Now go…” I listened to the whirring buzz of mechanised insects outside the disintegrating door.

She touched a lever at her waist. Her wings vibrated and her heart sang as she stood upon the windowsill. Morning rays glimmered against her fragmented glass wings, and they fluttered gently as tiny pistons pounded, flywheels spun and gears shifted. Ottavia dived from the window and I leaned across the frame.

She plummeted and my heart slipped into my mouth, and then she swooped and her wings bore her away, away to safety. I smiled as she disappeared behind cotton-wool clouds and automated bugs broke through the door. I still had enough fight left, enough to save my precious bumblebee.

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55 Words: Tears of the Innocent

Five Sentence Fiction: Doors

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Dawn approached, sliding silently across the skies, trailing mackerel clouds and a pale pink sunrise.

Orphic rays and shimmering shafts danced softly on the lawn bathing the morning lark, but his song barely caught Kate’s attention as she buckled the suitcase on the kitchen table.

Organza fluttered at her neck as a cool breeze wandered curiously through the room, and she fingered the iridescent material, fighting the tears that dropped onto the hurriedly packed case now resting at her feet.

Restless fingers fumbled as she repositioned the scarf to cover the now fading circlet of purple and yellow, and she hurriedly grabbed her life with a quick look up at the ceiling.

Sunshine now flooded the small, tidy kitchen and Kate slipped noiselessly out of the back door, closing it gently behind her.

Really enjoying a return to Lillie’s Five Sentence Fiction, the challenge where I cut my flash fiction teeth way back when…have a go yourself and take a look at the other entries.